


Guilt Hangs Us

by Danruu



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Guilt, M/M, Minor Violence, Oral Sex, Past Relationship(s), Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-16 14:13:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3491354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danruu/pseuds/Danruu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for tumblr prompt: Cullen runs into Samson at the Hanged Man a few months after Samson was expelled from the Order. Guilt happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guilt Hangs Us

**Author's Note:**

> Idk I'm consolidating some of my tumblr fics and putting them up on here if they're long enough. 
> 
> I like playing with guilt it seems!

Cullen had been reluctant to visit the Hanged Man, but the one of the men was celebrating a betrothal, or something like it, and had insisted that it was good for him to come out and join in some of the celebrating. It had taken some convincing, but here Cullen was, not in his usual armour and actually not minding the atmosphere. The Hanged Man would hardly have been his first choice of tavern, but here, once they were out of the uniform no one cared if they were Templars or not. He could see why some of the others might like that.

 

A few drinks down the line and Cullen was feeling pleasantly buzzed, not quite joining in with the jokes and banter, but not feeling quite so awkward now. He left their table in the corner for another drink, only stumbling a little which wasn’t nearly as bad as some of them.

 

He heard a voice he recognised by the bar, a voice that was low and rasping, and when he turned his head Cullen saw a familiar face. It had been months since he’d last seen Samson, but here he was, mere feet away from him, and launching himself at a dockworker with an angry snarl.

 

“Samson!” Cullen tried to call over the shouting, but if the other man heard him he didn’t respond, too busy throwing punches as the bar descended into mild chaos.

 

Cullen made an irritated noise to himself. He should just turn around, go back to the other Templars and ignore it. But Samson... he knew Samson. And he certainly didn’t want to see him get beaten to a pulp mere feet away.

 

“Enough! Come on!” He shouted over the yelling and swearing and hauled Samson off the dockworker by his shoulders, pushing him in the direction of the door. The rest of the Templars had barely turned around, and Cullen was sure they wouldn’t miss him just yet.

 

The Lowtown air was warm and muggy, smelling particularly unpleasant outside the Hanged Man. Samson hadn’t reacted to seeing Cullen in the tavern, but now they were outside he shrugged him off angrily as Cullen tried to look at his face where he’d been punched. “Didn’t take you for a Lowtowner _Knight-Lieutenant_.” He sneered, looking Cullen up and down. “Or is it _Knight-Captain_ now?”

 

Cullen ignored the jab at his new station, trying for a small smile instead. “How are you Sam?” He asked, trying to ignore the way his stomach clenched and curled at being near him again.

 

“Don’t you ‘Sam’ me.” Samson shot back, stepping away from him. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you did.”

 

Cullen stiffened a little, smiling disappearing. “I didn’t do anything.” He said defensively. He had been nothing to do with Samson’s expulsion from the Order. Nothing at all.

 

“Exactly.” Samson shoved his hands in his pockets and glared. “You didn’t do anything to help me. Just let Meredith throw me out like I was some criminal. Just for passing a few notes and seeing mages as human beings. You stood there and didn’t say a word. After...” He paused a moment, unable to even look Cullen in the eyes. “After everything...”

 

“I...” Cullen didn’t know what to say. What could he say? Samson wasn’t wrong after all. He’d stood back, hadn’t questioned. He hadn’t helped him.

 

Samson shook his head, looking more sad than angry now. “Just... go back to your Templars...” He started to slope away into the night. Cullen knew he should let him go, but something made it impossible.

 

“Samson wait!” He moved to grab Samson’s arm and Samson turned and slammed him hard against a wall, making Cullen yelp in surprise. There was still strength in that frame. Samson had lost weight, but he was obviously still getting lyrium from somewhere. Cullen’s stomach clenched in sympathy, but there was also a small jolt of something else at being pinned against that wall.

 

“What do you want from me?” Samson demanded; face mere inches away from Cullen’s. “Trying to make yourself feel better for casting me off are you?” He suddenly smiled, a cold, predatory smile, his eyes flicking down to Cullen’s lips and back up again. “You’ll need to do better than that, Rutherford.

 

Cullen flushed before he could help himself. He’d seen that look so many times before, in a happier time. This wasn’t their room in the Gallows, this was a Lowtown street, but he had to admit he could feel himself reacting to how close Samson was. “I can do better...” He murmured, surprising them both.

 

Samson’s eyebrows rose, but the cold grin returned quickly. “Well alright then.” He said, tugging Cullen into a side alley and into the dark. Cullen tried not to make embarrassing sounds, but a small squeak definitely escaped him as Samson pressed him against another cold wall and begun mouthing at his neck.

 

This was a bad idea. Cullen knew it. He was sure Samson knew it too. Anyone could walk out of the Hanged Man and see them, the Knight-Captain of the Kirkwall’s Templars pinned by the recently disgraced member of the Order. But Maker he’d missed him so much.

 

Seeing him now, even thinner like he was, even with his hair lank and unkempt, even with his eye purpling where that dockworker had caught him with a fist, he was still Samson. Even when he stepped back and gave Cullen an expectant look that made Cullen’s face burn. There was no affection in that stare, just detached lust. But Cullen still found himself dropping to his knees, their positions switched so Samson was the one leaning against the wall, Cullen’s shaky fingers unlacing his breeches.

 

This was familiar; he knew what he was doing. Cullen ran his hand over Samson’s groin and almost smiled at the hitch of breath and the way Samson’s cock twitched with interest. He stroked him slowly, feeling Samson’s eyes watching him but too nervous to look up.

 

“You remember what to do right?” Samson’s voice was soft, but mocking in a way that made Cullen glare up at him before thinking about it. That was a bit more like the Samson he missed, the snarky smile playing on his lips. Cullen didn’t respond with words, just moved forwards to take Samson’s cock into his mouth in one go, celebrating the small victory as he heard Samson moan in surprise.    

 

Cullen tried not to think about where he was, kneeling in a dirty alleyway in Lowtown was not how he pictured his evening going, but he knew Samson and knew what to do to make everything else fade into the background.

 

“Fuck...” He heard Samson breathe as fingers moved into his curly hair, and Cullen hummed in approval around his cock just to hear Samson’s breath hitch again.

 

It was sloppy, messy, Cullen was out of practice but Samson didn’t seem to notice as his hips bucked sporadically. It occurred to Cullen that chances were neither of them had been with anyone since the last time they’d slept together, and that thought made him miss Samson even more. He missed the companionship.

 

But this wasn’t what they had. This was... closure almost. Cullen needed to do this, some twisted way to apologise for abandoning Samson, to try and absolve himself of some of the guilt that he hadn’t even realised he’d been carrying around. He wasn’t sure going down on him in a dirty alley would be enough, but what else could he do?

 

Cullen rubbed his tongue on the underside of Samson’s cock eagerly as the other man thrust a little harder into his mouth. He felt some saliva escape and run down his chin but he made no effort to wipe it away. Let it be messy, dirty, this was the right place for it after all.

 

Samson wasn’t going to last long, and he gripped Cullen’s hair hard as he came, holding him still as he shot down his throat, and Cullen glanced up to see the slight smile as he gagged and choked. Perhaps he’d imagined the playful look earlier.

 

Cullen gasped for air as he was finally released; wiping what he hoped was just saliva off his chin as he stood up with aching knees. He was hard in his own breeches, but he ignored it and so did Samson.

 

“I’ll forgive you.” Samson said, looking out onto the street rather than at Cullen.

 

“You will?” Cullen blinked. Of course Samson knew what this was about. Sometimes it felt the man knew him better than he knew himself.

 

“Yeah. Maybe not yet. But I will.”

 

It was the best Cullen could ask for. He nodded, memorising the lines of Samson’s face in case he didn’t see him again. “Take care of yourself Samson.”

 

“Wait.” This time it was Samson grabbing his arm, and Cullen was caught off guard as he turned by a single, chaste kiss to his lips. A small smile. And then Samson was gone, turning the corner by the Hanged Man and disappearing into the depths of Lowtown, leaving Cullen with nothing but the taste of him on his mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> http://stripeydani.tumblr.com/


End file.
